Misinterpretation
by Molten-Ashes
Summary: "You know if I didn't know any better, I'd say this is quite kinky"


Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers!

Please R&R

(Crack. Enjoy!)

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><p>"I told you it wouldn't hold our weight" the black and white mech sighed gazing forlornly at the carnage that was now his desk.<p>

"Hey, don't look at me!" Jazz grumbled nestled in between the two broken pieces of the metal desk on the floor, "It was your idea to have a make out session in your office."

"No it was your idea, you jumped me as I was going to drop off the data-pads in the Security Room" the Praxian grumbled reaching down for his silver mate and helping him up with a grunt as the movement caused his lamp to tip off of its dangerous perch on the last flat piece of the desk, smashing with all the finality of a ceramic cup meeting a brick wall. "How the frag am I going to explain this to Prime? That's the fourth desk this month!"

The silver saboteur shrugged as the SIC continued to stare at his office in aghast horror "We could always fix it. I'm sure I could sniff out some of Sideswipe's industrial strength glue he used to stick Sunstreaker's servo to Bluestreak's aft."

"I had the contents of the contraband closet burned" Prowl sniffed his gold optics flashing in outrage "And when did that happen?"

"Before you arrived" Jazz said with a shrug "Anyway I think I have a spare desk"

"Since when did you have spares?" Prowl snorted crossing his arms across his chest plates, cocking a hip to the side and raising an optic ridge in disbelief "I seem to remember I was the one who had to remember you to hide your illegal weapons when the President came for a tour of the base."

"I'm a saboteur" the smaller silver mech retorted "I come prepared!"

Prowl gave up and scrubbed a servo over his faceplate, shutting off his optics in resignation "All right Jazz, you win, just help me move this old desk first"

==Base Entrance==

"Are you sure this is safe?" the newest liaison to replace Galloway asked as Sam let them out of the car he called Bumblebee, the Camero, bouncing up with a complicated transformation sequence and buzzing at them excitedly with clips of radio, no doubt reassuring them of his protection while they got a tour.

"It's perfectly safe" Sam replied with a tiresome grumble, Mikaela giving them a grin as the guards at the hanger doors let them through.

"I'm going to take you to the Command Centre first" William Lennox called waving them over as Bumblebee was distracted by Arcee coming in behind them, wandering off to chat to the pink femme motorcycle "Optimus wants someone to be with us when we show you around, I think Prowl was scheduled to take us"

"Who's Prowl?" Sam asked in confusion mentally ticking off all the Transformers on the Earth he was presently aware of.

"Oh, that right" the Major recalled "You guys weren't here when he landed about two months ago. Turns out he was on earth for a week before we even knew he was here. Jazz was pretty ecstatic to see him though; he's been working some magic with getting some order around here. Optimus may be the leader, but the dude with the doorwings wields the rule book to devastating effect. Did you know Ironhide isn't allowed his cannons activated in the base now?"

"Finally" Sam muttered relaxing slightly that he wouldn't have to witness the hulking black Autobot barrel down the corridor towards them after the gold and silver forms of Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, twin cannon muzzles humming and glowing with charge, ever again.

"I thought you said this place was safe Sam?" the woman liaison exclaimed sounding horrified even without having actually seen Ironhide in action.

"It is" the Major nodded "We humans just have to splat ourselves against the walls if we feel the vibrations or hear the roar of several tonnes of Autobot warrior storming through the base. So technically we're the ones who have to be on the alert. The Bot's just go about as they please."

"All the same, it is very safe for humans, most of the bots are actually conscious of where they step" Robert Epps chimed in as he joined them passing the Rec-Room, which was only occupied by a frustrated looking Cliffjumper playing Go Fish with a giddy looking Smokescreen and surprisingly off duty Ratchet. "The ones who aren't are usually spending quality time in the brig courtesy of Prowl complete with punishment to clean the brig afterwards with a toothbrush."

"Wow" the Liaison commented impressed "That's a strict regime"

"You don't know the half of it human" grumbled a sullen looking Sideswipe as he skated by, an enlarged toothbrush in his servo.

_**-Finding Prowl—**_

"And these are the Autobot's Offices" Lennox said grandly presenting the huge deserted corridor. "Prowl should be in his office, so we can stop by and collect him to start our tour"

As they approached voices could be heard from the other side of the storm grey door.

"Stop squirming Jazz"

"Oh, shut up and just stick it in!"

"It isn't supposed to bend, twist it"

"I'm trying, I'm trying, Primus, do you have to be so big?"

All of the humans present shared nervous glances, their cheeks tainting red in embarrassment as the bots inside were obviously having a _private_ moment.

"Shut up Jazz and just take it"

A thud and sharp clangs were heard, followed by a groan and the scraping of metal on metal.

"You know if I didn't know any better, I'd say this is quite kinky"

"Good thing you know better then, isn't it? Now shush and let me concentrate."

Ironhide's loud pede steps down the corridor had everybody jumping guiltily as the large black mech came into view carrying a data-pad. "Lennox, Epps" the walking gun turret acknowledged as he hammered a fist on Prowl's door as the humans made to stop him. "Prowl, I have those request forms from Optimus!"

"Well, get in here then!" the SIC's clipped tone growled as the door hissed open, admitting the Weapons Master.

The horrified humans standing outside the door sighed in relief as they saw Jazz and the doorwinged mech kneeling on the floor trying to fit a table leg into the new desk, the wreckage of the old one in a not so inconspicuous pile in the corner.

"Hey guys. What's up?" Jazz asked curiously visor glinting in amusement, his helm still under the desk that the golden opticked Prowl was supporting, holding the offending table leg that refused to fit into the underside of the pristine new desk.

"Oh Thank God" the Liaison sighed putting a hand to her heart in relief. "Talk about misinterpretation…"


End file.
